Black
by Sela McGrane
Summary: When Professor Hermione Black arrives at Hogwarts and accepts the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, Minerva McGonagall decides that she simply does not like this woman, and nothing Albus can say or do will change that. Professor Black would rather her co-worker not hate her, but it's not like she wanted to fall in love with the woman. To bad fate has other ideas.
1. Chapter 1

**The plot bunnies really need to stop visiting me so often...**

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><p><strong>Wednesday: September 1, 1971<strong>

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><p>"Ah! Professor Black," Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts greeted a distinguished looking woman, about thirty. She had curly, chestnut colored hair, piercing brown eyes, and her posture seemed to demand respect as she entered the Head's office.<p>

"This is the new Defense Professor?" Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration professor of nearly fifteen years inquired sharply. "Seems hardly old enough to…"

"I am not much younger than yourself, Professor McGonagall," the woman said in a calm, but stern tone. "And I would thank you to take time to get to know me before you cast judgement on my abilities."

The Deputy Head of Hogwarts raised her eyebrows, not angry at being interrupted, but rather curious about who this woman was. It was not every day Minerva met someone who dared challenge her. Her reputation for sharp rebuttals was second only for her reputation as a Transfiguration expert. Surely, this woman knew who she was. She had called her by name, after all.

"And a fine opportunity, Minerva," Albus said cheerfully, "to do so would be whilst showing Professor Black to her quarters."

"Everything is in order then, Albus?" the young Defense Professor inquired.

"Of course, Hermione," the elderly man replied kindly. "You'll find your belongings have already arrived, and you should have several hours available to you to get settled, before the staff meeting and the arrival of the students this evening."

Professor Black - _Hermione_ - nodded to Albus and then looked expectantly towards Minerva. "Shall we?" she asked.

"Right this way," Minerva replied, frowning slightly. She carefully observed the younger witch as they walked down the flight of stairs. She cocked her head to a door on the third floor, informing her companion that it was the location of the Defense Professor's office. They reached the bottom of the stairs and made their way along a corridor, Minerva pointed out her own classroom, before they turned a corner and just a bit further down, the Transfiguration Mistress pointed out the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. At the end of the second hall, which lent view of the courtyard, they stopped at the base of another, but smaller tower. While the tower which housed the Headmaster's office was circular, this tower was squared. "This tower is six floors. Floors five and six are yours, two and three are mine, and the first two floors belong to our Herbology Professor, Pomona Sprout."

Professor Black nodded in understanding, and then Minerva continued, pointing her hand to the right, down a wider hall. "Down that way is another six floor tower. Floor one and two of that tower belong to the Charms Professor, Filius Flitwick. Floors five and six belong to Bathsheda Babbling - she teaches Ancient Runes. The other Professors, Albus included, are housed in various other towers around the castle, but I thought you'd want to know who your _neighbors_, as it were, would be."

"What is on the second and third floors of the other tower?" Hermione inquired, noticing a gap in information."

"The Library," Minerva answered with a bit a smile. "With my tenure, Albus has offered to move me to larger quarters more often than I can count, but I continue to refuse, as I quite enjoy being a short walk from the Library."

For the first time since Minerva had met the woman, Hermione finally offered a smile in return. "I can certainly understand that. When I was a student, my friends often joked about kicking our Librarian out of her office, which was adjacent to the Library, so I could make it into my own flat and never have to leave my precious books."

Green eyes sparked with mirth, and Minerva suddenly decided that despite her reservations, she may turn out to really like this newest Defense Professor. Oh course, Hermione Black would need to survive the year before Minerva got too attached. After all, the post was cursed…

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><p>Professor Hermione Black looked at a Defense Against the Dark Arts Certificate of Mastery with amusement. It wasn't as if she'd never seen a Mastery Certificate before, it was just that last time she'd looked at one, it had listed Hermione <em>Granger<em> as the recipient, and the Mastery itself had been in Potions, rather than Defense. Before she'd come here, to Hogwarts of 1971, four months prior, she'd also been working on a Mastery in Transfiguration.

That had all changed though. Working closely with Minerva McGonagall on her mastery had given Hermione a chance to get to know her former Professor on a more personal level. She didn't think she would have been out of line to call them _friends_, even. Then one night, the two of them had gotten rather drunk, and Minerva had confessed the reason she'd never married; that she'd met the love of her life the year Harry's parents, along with the other Marauders, had come to Hogwarts, and that the woman, Hermione, had vanished the last night of term with no word, and no clue on where she might have gone. As it has been the beginning of Voldemort's rise, Minerva had always assumed that _her_ Hermione had been an early victim of his wrath.

Of course, _Hermione_ being an uncommon name, not to mention Hermione _Granger_'s inquisitive nature, the then nineteen year had went searching for answers. What she found had startled her, and led to the argument of the century. Digging through school records had led the young Gryffindor to a picture of Professor Hermione Black - a woman who looked identical to herself. The only logical conclusion to come to was that Hermione Black and Hermione Granger were one in the same.

Minerva had not been too surprised when her student came bursting into her quarters, demanding an explanation. Hermione sighed as she remembered the fight, in which Minerva had admitted to realizing the year before that her student was the woman she'd loved all those years ago, and that she'd hoped that the Hermione of this timeline might be interested in rekindling the flame. However, Hermione having only just begun dating Ron, refused the older witch, and discontinued her Transfiguration studies at once. She'd gotten a job in the Department of Mysteries, and then one day, four months ago, she'd had an accident and been thrown back to 1971. She'd spent the first month trying to get back, and in the process, adopted the name of Hermione _Black_, just in case it came to...this.

She was determined not to allow Minerva to fall in love with her this time. After all, even if she could somehow grow to love the older woman...well, hardly much older _now_... she knew that at the end of term, someone would happen to her. Hermione couldn't begin to guess what that something might be; it could be that she would find a way home, or that she did indeed, as Minerva speculated, fall to Voldemort. She believed the latter was more likely, as Dumbledore's condition for assisting her, and giving her the Defense position, was that she become a spy for him. The life of a spy was usually short lived, after all.

"Professor Black?" a familiar voice called from her doorway.

Hermione turned around to face Pomona Sprout, though a much younger, and decidedly slimmer version than the new Defense Professor remembered from her own years at Hogwarts. Of course, the Pomona of 1971 had never met Hermione, so she did not greet the woman by name, rather feigning innocence. "Yes?" she said.

"I'm Pomona Sprout, Herbology Professor and your neighbor," the woman introduced herself. She held out a plant towards Hermione. "I thought I'd come by and bring a housewarming gift."

"Well do come in, and I shall find a dark corner for that wonderful specimen," Hermione replied, waving Pomona in.

"You know your plants!" the other woman exclaimed, grinning.

"I had an encounter with Devil's Snare, a plant the size of a large classroom, when I was twelve," Hermione explained. "It made this particular variety of plant difficult to forget."

"You'd have to a seedling in total darkness for at least three months to make it grow that large," Pomona mused. "And that would be for an already mature plant. This one is only a seedling."

Hermione was not surprised when Pomona said that. She imagined that in her future, she would have used that very knowledge to plan how long she needed to grow the Devil's Snare which would be one of the protections for the Sorcerer's Stone. "I imagine so," was all she said, though.

"So, Professor…"

"Please, call me _Hermione_," the newest member of the Hogwarts staff insisted.

"And you, of course, should call me _Pomona,_" came an easy reply. "So, Hermione, you and I seem to be close in age, yet I don't remember you from school - did you attend elsewhere?"

Hermione nodded. "I was educated at home," she began her cover story. "My father did not believe a woman should be educated, and my mother was only willing to defy him to the point of hiring tutors. Once I was of age, I pursued my mastery on my own galleon."

"Your family disowned you, then?" Pomona asked sadly.

"If you ever ask a Black about me, they will deny my very existence," Hermione said with a sigh. That part of the story was true, of course, as none of the Blacks in this timeline knew her, they would be telling the truth. Hermione had no problem with the Noble House of Black being perceived as liars.

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><p>By three that afternoon, Minerva was still more than a little suspicious of Hermione Black. Albus appeared to trust her, in fact he'd insisted that he did, but Minerva was not convinced that the new Defense Professor didn't have him fooled, somehow.<p>

She'd spent the better part of the last two hours in the Library, refreshing her memory of the House of Black. She had not found any reference whatsoever to a _Hermione_ ever being born into that family, even if the name did sound like something one of them would name their. The Blacks always had been keen on traditional Wizarding names, meaning that they were Latin in origin. In fact, if she remembered correctly, Minerva thought that Walburga's boy Sirius was starting Hogwarts today. Druella, another of the Black family, who had been a classmate of Minerva's, had two girls still in Hogwarts, and one, Bellatrix, who had already graduated. Bella's sisters, Andromeda and Narcissa, were in their were in their sixth year and fourth year respectively. Point being, Minerva thought, there were plenty of Blacks floating around, but none that she could link Hermione to. The only Black that could possibly have fathered the new Defense Professor would have been Pollux, Walburga's father. He was known for drinking copious amounts of wine at a time. Perhaps Hermione was his bastard.

Anyway, she'd have to do more research later. Minerva could sense Albus eyeing her, obviously aware that she wasn't listening to a word he was saying.

"My apologies, Albus," she muttered, giving him her full attention.

The Headmaster nodded. "As I was saying, we welcome you, Professor Black, to the staff."

"Thank you, Albus," Hermione replied. "It's an honor, I assure you."

Minerva's lips pursed together tightly. How dare this woman address Albus with such familiarity? She's known the man for what, a week? The Transfiguration Professor knew one of her less favorable character traits was her pride, but she just couldn't help it. Albus had been her Professor, mentor, Mastery instructor, and boss. They were friends; they had been for decades. She would _know_ if he'd met Professor Hermione _bloody_ Black prior to the last weeks. It irritated her further when Albus offered the new Defense Professor a broad smile.

"The honor is ours, my dear," he said. "Now, on to business. The students, as per usual, will arrive…"

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><p>It was surreal, Hermione thought, to be sitting up here on the dias, seated at the Head Table. She knew that she had every right and reason to be there, now, but still, it felt odd to be seated next to those she had been, or rather would be, taught by.<p>

"Lily Evans!" Minerva McGonagall's voice rang.

At that, Hermione's attention focused on the girl who would become her best friend's mother. Red haired with startling green eyes, the lanky eleven year old walked nervously toward the stool on which she would sit to be sorted. She reminded Hermione of herself at that age; muggleborn and eager to prove herself, but still undeniably shy.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat declared. No surprise there.

Hermione watched with interest as Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter were all sorted to Gryffindor as well. Then of course, was Severus Snape, though he was sorted to Slytherin. Again, no surprise. There were other children sorted whose names Hermione recognized, Frank Longbottom to Gryffindor as well, for example, and a girl named Alice Carrow, who looked so much like Hermione's classmate and friend Neville that there was no mistaking who she would eventually mother. Alice was sorted to Slytherin, much to Hermione's surprise. She wondered why Neville had never mentioned ties to the two Death Eaters who had tortured he and many other students during the final year of the war. Granted, had she known she was related to those two, she never would have mentioned it either, and it did explain why no one from Neville's mother's family ever came forward to care for him, after his parents were placed in St. Mungo's. They had probably disowned Alice for marrying Frank Longbottom. The only other person Hermione noticed as familiar was Xeno Lovegood, sorted to Ravenclaw, of course. There was another girl, Pandora something-or-other, also to Ravenclaw, who had long blond hair, and Hermione wondered if this girl would become the mother her schoolmate Luna would lose before coming to Hogwarts herself.

After the sorting, Albus gave his expected announcements and then dinner was served. Tomorrow, classes would begin, and Hermione found herself looking forward to teaching. This whole trip back in time was turning out to be quite enjoyable overall, in fact. Now, if Minerva would only stop glaring at her...

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><p><strong>PLEASE REVIEW!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's a nice long update for you. I honestly don't have a 'plan' for this fic. I know point A, I know point B, and I know a couple things I want to happen between A and B...but other than that I'm just writing what comes to mind. I have to say, there are two characters that you meet in this chapter who I hope to explore further, who it has never occurred to be before to play with. They're not OCs, but they are characters that JKR never did squat with. Anyway, more rambling from MNA - do enjoy. :)**

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><p><strong>Friday: September 3, 1971<strong>

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><p>It hadn't even been a full week of classes, just two grueling days, but Hermione was exhausted. Her first class, yesterday, had been a fine example of how old the Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry really was. Narcissa Black, a fourth year Slytherin and future mother to Hermione's own classmate, Draco, had gotten into an argument with one of the Gryffindors of that year, another young lady by the name of Danika Potter. Hermione wondered how the dark haired girl might be related to Harry. By the time Harry had been orphaned, his father James, currently in his first year, had been the last living Potter. Wondering, as usual, led her to research, so she now found herself knocking on the Headmaster's door.<p>

"Good evening, Professor Black," Albus said with a smile. "How was your first week?"

"Fine," she stated. "Though a student of mine has raised a question that I was hoping you could answer. "How are James and Danika Potter related?"

Albus frowned. "I'm surprised you don't already know - she is his elder sister. Does she not survive past…?"

"Harry never knew her, sir," Hermione replied. "I expect she was dead even before his birth in nineteen eighty. She seems a nice girl, even if she did engage into a fight with Narcissa Black this morning. Had she still been around, she might have raised Harry, rather than his mother's sister and her dreadful husband."

"Ah, yes, regarding Lily's muggle sister," Albus said brightly. "I've done as you asked, and invited she and her parents to spend Christmas here at the castle. With any luck, that will be the first step in preventing her from ever turning into the unpleasant woman you've described."

Hermione smiled. Before she'd taken the post as Defense Professor, she'd done a lot of thinking and planning on how to make the future better than she'd left it. She wouldn't be here to prevent Harry's parents from dying, but she hoped to influence Petunia in a way that meant that Harry's childhood would be less vile. She meant to form a bond with young Peter Pettigrew, and hopefully influence him in such a way that he'd never betray his friends, but in the case that she failed there, helping Petunia move past her hate for her sister may perhaps give Harry an aunt that loved him, rather than loathed the remnant of Lily's existence.

Suddenly, there was a knock at Albus' office door, and in walked a young man who bore a startling resemblance to Fred and George Weasley; so much so that Hermione was sure she was gaping like a fish.

"Ah, Mr. Prewett," Albus said. "What might I do for you today?"

"Gideon and I were wondering if you'd give us permission to start a Dueling Club for over seventeens," the young man said point blank.

"Well, it's alright with me," the Headmaster said thoughtfully, stroking his still auburn beard. "Though I think that yourself and Fabian would be best to work with Professor Black here in doing so," he said, nodding to Hermione.

"Oh. So you're the new Defense Professor then?" Gideon Prewett asking, grinning. "You don't look so tough. Too pretty to be a Defense expert."

Gideon and Fabian, Hermione realized, were Molly Weasley's twin brothers. She'd never heard if they were elder or younger than she - only that both had died some time in the first years of the war, prior to the birth of their namesakes, Frederick Gideon and George Fabian Weasley. Molly had told her once that her own set of twins reminded her so very much of her brothers. That knowledge in mind, Hermione flicked her wrist, wand in hand, toward the seventh year Prewett boy, and cast a spell that in her timeline, was quite forbidden. "Too pretty, Mr. Prewett?" she smirked. "Would you care to dance, then?"

Instantly, and not of his own accord, Fabian Prewett began to waltz about the room with an invisible partner, a look of amusement on his face as he did so. "Brilliant," he said. "What spell is that?"

"That, young man," Albus said seriously, "is the Imperious Curse - an undetectable compelling spell which would force you to kill your best friend, should Professor Black wish you to."

The red haired student's smile vanished, and Hermione released her magical hold on him. "I take it back," he muttered, looking at his new Defense Professor in awe. "You obviously know what you're doing, Professor. Will you help us start a Dueling Club?"

Hermione nodded, emotionless. "If your twin and yourself would join me in my office in one hour, we will..._plot_."

"How'd you know Fab was my twin?" Gideon asked, grinning again.

"I'm a Professor, Mr. Prewett," she replied cryptically. "We know everything. Didn't you realize?"

The Gryffindor boy stared at her for a second, and then nodded. "See you in an hour, Professor Black," he stated. "Headmaster, good evening."

"And to you, Mr. Prewett," Albus replied kindly.

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><p>Minerva McGonagall stormed into Professor Black's office without so much as a knock. "A word, Black!" she snipped.<p>

She'd just been to see Albus, who informed her that he'd given Hermione permission to head up a Dueling Club, as per requested by the Prewett twins. Friendship and Head of Houseship aside, as Deputy, Albus _should _have asked her. But _no_. Anything _Hermione _wants, she gets. Scottish temper flaring, she'd gone right down to Professor Black's office, intent on giving the woman a piece of her mind.

"Tea, Minerva?" Hermione inquired, looking up from her place at her desk, seemingly unfazed by what the students deemed to be her _unholy ire_.

"Tea? Tea?!" Minerva spat. "I don't want tea, I want your head on a stick!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, tilting her head slightly as she did so. Minerva noticed her glance briefly at the clock on the wall before responding. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to reschedule this argument, as I am expecting the Prewett boys in less than ten minutes?"

If possible, Minerva got madder. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are?" she demanded. "You show up here, no work history, no community connections, and no apparent link to the family you claim to belong to, and Albus just lets you do whatever you want! So, that leads me to believe that either you are a dark witch and have cursed the Headmaster to do your bidding, or you are someone other than who you claim to be, and have somehow convinced Albus to cover for who you really are."

"I see you've been making use of the Library in the last few days," Hermione smiled. "You know Minerva, I expected you to be one to fight my presence, mostly because you're too smart not to, but the temper tantrum is quite the surprise."

"Tan-tantrum?" Minerva stuttered, unbelieving of this woman's nerve. "You…"

"Once, though you can't recall," Hermione said quietly, cutting her off, "you trusted me. Cared for me, even. Can't my word be enough, that I mean you know harm, nor do I seek to harm those or what matter most to you?"

"What?" the older witch asked incredulously, now wondering if she was a victim of some memory charm, and Albus _did _know Hermione Black, even while she did not? "You better undo whatever you've done to me, or I'll…"

Her threat was cut off by a knock on the office door. Hermione sighed. "I must ask you to leave now, Minerva," the brown haired woman said firmly. "I think that despite my intentions not to, it has become necessary to tell you the truth. That said, I must meet with the two young men at the door, for that is more important that you could know. If you meet me in my quarters at eight, I will explain myself, though only if you give your word that what I tell you will go no further. Albus already knows who I really am, so you are welcome to speak with him on the matter afterward, but to no other. Do we have an accord?"

Minerva looked at her skeptically. "How do I know you won't kill me when I arrive?" she asked suspiciously.

Professor Black laughed outright at that comment. "I'll tell you a bit of truth now - while quite proficient at Defense, my true area of expertise is Potions. I'm quite certain that if it came down to a duel, you could easily best me. That said, if you feel you must enter my quarters with wand in hand, I will not hold it against you. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

With that, Hermione rose from her chair and walked to the door. "My apologies, gentlemen," she said to the Prewitt twins. "Your Transfiguration Professor needed to discuss an issue which could not wait. She is just leaving…"

Minerva grudgingly took her cue, and walked out of the office. "I'll see you at eight, Professor Black," she said firmly. "Though I prefer we meet in my quarters. Do not be late."

The other woman nodded in agreement. "Very well," she said before turning away. "Now, about this Dueling Club…"

The door closed soundlessly in front of Minerva, and with the warding on the office to prevent eavesdropping, the Deputy Headmistress heard nothing further. A quick _tempus_ charm indicated to her that it was just a few minutes past six now, which meant she had two hours until her colleague arrived in her quarters, presuming the witch was prompt. Oh, how she loathed tardiness…

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><p>After an hour and a half of speaking with Gideon and Fabian about how to proceed with the Dueling Club, and a quick stop in her own quarters to change her now singed robes - she'd been testing the boys' skills - Hermione was en route to Minerva's to explain herself. She'd spared a moment to send a Patronus to Albus, letting him know that she planning to tell Minerva some of the truth, and that she'd inform him about what she ended up sharing with his Deputy.<p>

When Hermione had first come to Albus, she'd be honest with him from the start about who she was and where she was from, as well as filled him in on the war to come. He had agreed with her speculation that since there was no purpose of her own to travel back through time, that the magics had worked on their own accord, that she was meant to come back. Hermione had neglected to mention to him that she'd had fair warning - that the future version of his Deputy had reported herself as the woman she'd fallen in love with - but as Hermione had no intention of allowing that to happen this time around, it was irrelevant.

She had told Albus about the Horcruxes, some of which had already been made by now, and some that would be created in the years to come. Hermione and Albus had agreed that by this point, there was little to be done to stop the coming war before it started, but in theory, the information Hermione had, combined with her agreement to spy for him now, would make the war a short one, and prevent the second wizarding war from ever coming to pass. Hermione realized, of course, that telling Minerva now would create a bond of trust between them, which could have the potential to develop into a more personal relationship. She found herself wishing she'd asked her mentor more questions the night she had confronted her former Professor, but nothing could be done about that now. For all she knew, Hermione was laying one of the bricks tonight, which would become the foundation of their supposed romance. She would simply need to be careful of how she presented herself to Minerva from here on out; to never give the older witch cause to feel any attraction. Hermione still harbored some hope that when this year was over, she would return to her own time, perhaps moments after she'd left, and continue her relationship with Ron.

Hermione sighed as she descended down the staircase of the tower she now resided in, going from her own level five entrance, or Minerva's door on level three. As she raised her hand to knock, she found herself wondering if Minerva's quarters of 1971 would be much different than the quarters of the late nineties, where she had spent so much time in the year after the war ended.

"Come in," Minerva said stiffly, upon opening her door.

"Thank you," Hermione murmured, sparing a moment to note that the other witch's quarters had hardly changed at all. She then turned her attention back to Minerva as the door closed behind them. "So, do you still wish for me to _explain myself_?"

"Yes," came the firm reply, leaving no room for question. Hermione suspected that Minerva would hex the information out of her, need be, but she felt it better to just tell the curious woman, rather than she find out more than she should know about the future. A certain conversation about a romance, for example.

"Do I have your word that you will keep this information to yourself?" Hermione asked. "Lives depend on it, Minerva. Hundreds of lives."

The ebony haired witch nodded. "You have my vow. Nothing you say tonight will leave this room, unless it be in conversation with Albus, or yourself, or another you indicate I should share any information with."

"Good enough," Hermione nodded, seeing blue light dancing along Minerva's left hand - her wand hand - indicating that her magic had recognized the commitment to secrecy. "Then, to answer your first question, my true surname is _Granger_. I took on the name _Black _because in the year to come, it will be necessary for me to mingle with pureblood wizards and witches who would never trust someone bearing a muggle name."

"Why?" Minerva asked. "Why would you need to be perceived as pureblood? No one gives a rat's arse about that these days."

"More do than you think," Hermione replied. "And in the coming war, pureblood supremacy will be a key factor in the enemy's agenda."

"War?!" the other witch exclaimed. "What war?"

"Seeds of it are brewing already. Do you recall a man by the name of Tom Riddle?" Hermione asked. "I can't remember off-hand if you and he were at Hogwarts together."

"Head boy in my third year," Minerva shrugged. "What of it?"

"It is he who will lead the opposition," Hermione explained carefully.

"Where the bloody hell are you getting your information?" Minerva demanded. "If Albus had known about this, he'd have told me!"

"My information comes from the future," Hermione whispered," where the war has already devastated the wizarding world, taking hundreds of lives including Albus'."

Minerva stared at her dumbly for a moment. "You're from the future?"

"Yes."

"How far?" came the next question.

Hermione sighed. "I won't be born until September nineteenth, nineteen seventy nine. I left from two-thousand and four."

"So when you said that I once trusted you…"

"You were my Professor," Hermione said. "You don't remember not because I've taken your memory, but rather because for you, it hasn't happened yet. We got quite close when you began training me for my Transfiguration mastery, before I opted to switch my advanced training to that of a mastery in Potions."

"Under Horace?" Minerva inquired, curious.

"Merlin, no," Hermione laughed. "After being taught by Snape for five years, I couldn't lower myself to a tutor such as Slughorn. Don't get me wrong, Slughorn is good, but Severus...that man could _brew_…"

"Then you did your master under him? Snape? Wait, that name…" Minerva paused, thinking.

"Just started his first year," Hermione clued the older witch in. "A Slytherin. And no, I did not have the privilege to train under him, as he died in the final battle of the war. I got my mastery under Aberforth Dumbledore."

"Good choice," Minerva stated. "Few even know he's a potions master."

"Well, after he saved Harry, Ron and myself from the Death Eaters...Tom's most loyal followers, that is, I got to know the man bit," Hermione admitted, remembering fondly how she'd gone back after the battle to thank Aberforth for his help, only to find him holed up and brewing healing potions. She'd stepped in and at once began to assist him, knowing how much those potions would be needed after such a battle, and later that night he'd offered to help her get a mastery. She'd turned him down then, in favor of working with Minerva, but a year later, after her mentor's confession, she'd returned and taken him up on his offer.

"Harry and Ron?" Minerva inquired.

"Potter and Weasley," Hermione elaborated, knowing she was not going to manage telling her story tonight without mentioning them, so she figured she might as well give descriptions. Harry is the son of James Potter, one of your new Gryffindors. Ron is the son of Arthur Weasley...he would have graduated a few years ago now. I'm sure you recall the red hair…"

"Yes, he married Molly Prewett," the other witch confirmed. "Ron's mother, I presume. Oh, Merlin save me if Arthur Weasley fathers twins like Molly's parents did! That boy was trouble…"

Hermione just smirked. She's always wondered which side of the family Fred and George had got their prankster tendencies from. Now she knew…

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><p><strong>Like? Yes, no? Keep going? Any characters from the Marauders Era that you want to see featured in this story? PLEASE REVIEW!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Another update for "Black" for your reading pleasure. **

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><p><strong>Saturday, September 11, 1971<strong>

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><p>"<em>Professor Black, my office, at once."<em>

Hermione frowned, attention drawn to Albus' patronus. The weekly staff meeting had been last evening, and she and the Headmaster had taken tea together afterward, discussing topics pertaining to her existence in a timeline which she did not really belong. Namely, they had discussed Minerva, who had not been meant to know about her, but now did. Albus had not been pleased when she'd informed him that she'd told Minerva; not because he didn't trust his Deputy, but rather because he worried that the knowledge would put his dear friend in harm's way.

Hermione neatly stacked the pile of Potions essays she'd been grading, and then stood, grabbed her cloak, and made for the Headmaster's office. A few minutes later, she arrived, frowning as she saw Albus glaring at two of his students. Narcissa Black and Danika Potter were both sitting in chairs, facing his desk, looking very sulky.

"Headmaster, you called?" Hermione said, announcing her presence.

"Yes," Albus said firmly. "I'm afraid that Professor McGonagall is in the Hospital Wing, seriously injured, as a result of these two assaulting her. I'll be needing you to take over Head of Gryffindor duties for the time being, which means that Miss Potter's punishment is your purview. Professor Lestrange is on his way to retrieve Miss Black."

Hermione was about to inquire as to what exactly the two fourth years had done to Minerva, when Ravian stormed into the office looking livid. "Albus!" he shouted. "It is my belief that an attack on a teacher should result in expulsion. Miss Black, you will return to your dorms with me right now and pack your things!"

"Minerva is injured, not dead," Hermione stated firmly. "Headmaster, whatever they have done, I cannot believe that expelling them will do any sort of good!"

"Mind your place, Professor Black!" Ravian snipped.

"In regard to my niece, I will not!" the Potions Mistress shouted back.

"You...you're my aunt?" Narcissa quietly asked.

Hermione sighed. She couldn't really explain her desire to help Narcissa out of this mess. Perhaps it was because she'd helped Harry, in the future, or maybe it was because Andy had once told her that as a child, Narcissa was a good person, until she'd been expelled and promised to Lucius Malfoy within the following year. Hermione now wondered if she could keep Narcissa in school, she might become a key player for the light, versus becoming hostess to Lord Voldemort. If Hermione was very, very lucky, she'd never marry Lucius Malfoy, or have that prat Draco.

Ignoring Narcissa's question, Hermione addressed Albus again. "Headmaster, article six-thirty-nine of the Hogwarts bylaws specifically state that if a member of a student's family is on staff, that relative has authority to dictate punishments and rewards over that of his or her Head of House."

"You wish to take responsibility for Miss Black?" Albus asked, looking at her curiously.

"I believe…" Hermione stated slowly, searching for a way to communicate her thoughts to Albus without letting Ravian know too much. "...that it would be in everyone's best interest that I do."

"I can't argue Professor Black's point about the bylaws, Ravian," the Headmaster said, turning to the aging Arithmancy Professor. "As they are quite clear on the matter and she is indeed a direct relative of young Narcissa."

"Very well," Ravian said stiffly. "What shall be her punishment then, Professor Black?"

"She, along with Miss Potter, will serve detention with me every Saturday up till they leave for the Christmas hols," Hermione said. "In addition, and again up till the hols, they shall not go anywhere without at least one other person, student or Professor, accompanying them. Should they be discovered alone, the detentions will be extended so far as I see fit."

Danika groaned, but Narcissa looked rather happy about the arrangement. Hermione resolved to talk to the young Slytherin about her reaction later on. She knew that of the Black sisters, Bellatrix had joined with Voldemort of her own accord, along with her husband, who if Hermione was to guess, was related to Ravian in some manner. Andromeda, a few short years from now, would be disowned by her family upon her marriage to the muggle man, Ted Tonks. Hermione supposed that it was his influence that changed Andy for the better, though Merlin only knew if there were other factors involved. Narcissa, on the other hand, was the wildcard of the Black sisters. Hermione did know that her marriage to Lucius had been arranged, and she suspected that it was greatly due to her expulsion, which Hermione had just prevented.

She'd have to speak to Albus about it later, and get his thoughts on the matter. At the moment, she had a detention to carry out, and when she was through with that, she wanted to go see how Minerva was doing. Despite the fact that she had no desire to fall in love with the elder witch, the temperamental Transfiguration Professor was still someone she cared greatly for. They'd fought a war together, after all, and that did tend to tie people together.

* * *

><p>Minerva was literally twiddling her fingers; she was <em>that<em> bored. This morning, she'd been on route to breakfast and heard a ruckus down the hall, and gone to investigate. Narcissa Black and Danika Potter had been throwing hexes at each other like the use of them was going out of style. She'd shouted, and in response got hexed by both of the fourth year girls in quick succession.

While it was an attack on her person, and Merlin knew how she loathed being stuck in the blasted Hospital Wing, she really wasn't mad at the girls. Of course, they should not have been fighting, but when she entered the situation, she should have been more careful - disarming before confronting would have been the wiser move.

The sound of the Hospital Wing's door cracking open shifted her attention, and she was surprised to see Professor Black entering, and even more so surprised when Professor Black smiled and headed her way. It had been just over a week since Minerva had learned the truth of Hermione Black...or rather, _Granger,_ and she was still trying to process. It was odd to think that from Hermione's point of view, they'd known one another for more than a decade and had been quite close, though how close Hermione had been purposely vague about.

Minerva had done a fair bit of wondering about what sort of relationship they may have had in the future, or rather, in Hermione's unique past. The Transfiguration Professor had long ago given up fighting her sexual preferences, and as the kids these days were saying, she would certainly not be opposed to '_tapping that'_. Hermione was a beautiful woman, after all. Being a Hogwarts Professor didn't exactly lean in favor of building long term relationships, but Minerva was no stranger to flings. In fact, seeing how Hermione was the Defense Professor and therefore not likely to last the year, if there was any potential for something more than a platonic relationship, she ought to step it up and start exploring the possibility.

"Hermione," she greeted with a small smile. "How good of you to come see me."

"I brought you some books, as well as edition of _Transfiguration Today_," the younger witch said kindly. "I imagined you'd be bored by now."

"Dreadfully," Minerva admitted. "Though I've already read this months _Transfiguration Today_."

"Who said it was this months' edition?" Hermione teased, pulling out an issue and handing it to her co-worker.

Minerva looked at the date. "August...nineteen _ninety-seven_?!"

"It was the last issue printed before Harry, Ron and I went on the run," Hermione explained. "I've always kept it on me… a sort of good luck charm. Thus, it was in my bag when I got lifted back through time. I thought you'd appreciate it."

"That would be an understatement," the older witch breathed, excitedly flipping the magazine open. "Oh, bloody hell, here's an article _I_ wrote!"

Hermione laughed. "You wrote, in my timeline, an article about Transfiguration applied Dueling in the September of nineteen ninety, which was so popular that not only did _Transfiguration Today_ have to print extra copies for that month, but they invited you to submit an article every month. You were not a staff writer, per say, but your articles were seen in eight to ten of the twelve annual editions for the following years, right up to when I left. No one in the Transfiguration community doesn't know the name _McGonagall._"

"And here, I thought I was well known now…" Minerva muttered, shock written clearly on her face.

"Don't let it go to your head," Hermione warned jovially. "So, what exactly happened between you and the two girls chained to my office wall?"

"WHAT?!" Minerva yelped, horrified at the prospect of Miss Black and Miss Potter being…"

"It was a joke, Minerva," the other witch chuckled. "Danika and Narcissa will be serving detention with me for the next several weeks as part of the punishment for injuring you."

"Why isn't Miss Black's punishment being carried out by Ravian?" Minerva asked, confused.

"Because Ravian wanted to expel her, and as Narcissa's aunt, I stepped in and prevented him from doing so," Hermione explained.

"You are _not_ her aunt," Minerva said, crossing her arms, upset by the lie.

"And you are one of two people aside from myself who knows that," the Defense Professor stated. "Minerva, I'm asking you to trust me - Narcissa Black of my timeline became a servant of evil after being expelled and consequently married off. Her remaining in school gives her a chance to choose another path."

"This is why you brought the magazine," the older witch pouted. "You were buttering me up for this."

"Perhaps," Hermione replied, looking amused. "Say, do you play chess?"

Minerva frowned, wondering what that had to do with anything. "Badly," she admitted. Albus had taught her the basics, but now that he was Headmaster he didn't really have time for such frivolities. She couldn't say she had played a game since he took the post in fifty-six. Merlin, she was getting old…

"_Accio chessboard,"_ Hermione said, raising her wand and flicking it with ease. A moment later a beautiful marble board, with corresponding green and white marble pieces, set itself up on a table Hermione had conjured just before it came flying in. "You taught me to play," the younger witch explained, "and in my time, you're very good at the game. Let's say I return the favor and teach you the tricks you taught me?"

"That very concept is barking mad," Minerva said, picking up a pawn and moving it forward. "But why the hell not?"

* * *

><p>Hermione couldn't help but admit to herself how much she'd enjoyed the hours this morning she'd spent with Minerva, followed by lunch together when their chess game extended past the noon hour. Before she'd left, Minerva had grabbed her hand and whispered a genuine <em>thank you<em>; Hermione's hand was still tingling from the contact, and she could seem to shake the elevated heartbeat that such a simple, innocent touch had instigated.

"Damn," she muttered, reminding herself that she had Ron to go home to, with a little luck…

But what if her luck was all used up? Merlin knew she'd spent a lifetime's worth of good fortune on the war and her adventures with Ron and Harry that led up to it. What if she never did get back? What if she simply died at the end of the school year, when Minerva had indicated she was to vanish without a trace. What if…

Hermione shook her head. She would _not_ justify the attraction she was feeling toward Minerva at the moment by the notion that she _might_ not live to get back to Ron. It was point blank unkind to consider an affair with Minerva, which would either bring the older witch years of pain in the future, or would leave her guilt stricken upon returning to Ron. No. She simply would not do it.

"Hey, Professor!"

Hermione turned to face the Prewett boys, who like herself was on the way to the Great Hall for the first meeting of the newly formed Dueling Club.

"Gideon, Fabian," she acknowledged. "Are you two prepared?"

"Yes ma'am," Fabian replied - his hair was a bit longer than his twin's, enabling Hermione to tell them apart. "Excited."

The three found their way to the hall, where Albus had already set up a Dueling platform, which to Hermione's amusement was nearly identical to the one she'd seen in her second year, during Lockhart's sad attempt to teach them how to duel. She still chuckled internally when she thought of Severus knocking the big ponce to the ground with a single disarming spell.

Hermione nodded to Samera Wellson, the current Astronomy Professor. The older witch, despite her benign line of work, was well known as an expert duelist, and had agreed to assist in today's class. History would remember her as _Madam Dumbledore _in Dueling circles, not because she was related to Albus, or that they were a couple, but because she was the single person who had ever repeatedly bested Albus in a fight. She was brilliant.

"Good afternoon," the Defense Professor greeted the twenty of-age students who'd expressed interest in this club. "Today we will be learning the Patronus Charm. While typically used to defend against Dementors, this charm can also produce a messenger that is far swifter than an Owl, and so far as I am aware, impossible to intercept. In times of battle, this is very useful in relaying information to your comrades, even when it means the messenger must go through enemy territory…"

"She sounds like she's been through a war…" she heard one student whisper.

"She's too young to have fought Grindelwald…" another replied.

"Well where could she have learned it all then?" the first argued.

Hermione sighed, realizing that there was a hole in her cover story that needed patching up. She'd have to put some thought into a plausible reason why she knew so much about Defense and dueling.

* * *

><p><strong>So, should Hermione successfully guide Narcissa to the light, or no? Also in next chapter, Hermione encounters the Marauders, along with young Lily and Severus. Meanwhile, Minerva addresses her feelings toward the Defense Professor she's determined to not like.<strong>

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